Playing The Wrong Piano
Playing the
wrong piano/
Transposing crooked notes
left by Cubist lovers/
Floating overhead in pale gray rooms
of their own construction/
Alight with atonal words on fire
smoldering as I smoke backwards/
Exhaling John Cage cancer
and imperfect rings of emphysema/
Wheezing a broken, blackened melody
I cannot breathe/
Sitting here beneath the arbitrary rhythm
of a strangled symphony/
Above a tuck of tails trailing
an exit face flashing before ivories combust/
Knowing I can always just
hum myself to sleep
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